


SOLACE: The Tale of Lieutentant Guillermo Lesaro & Isabella

by ElizabethPacifica



Series: One Shot Backgrounds for The Kiss of Sea Air [2]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Rape, but not between the main characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-01-23 12:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21320047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethPacifica/pseuds/ElizabethPacifica
Summary: As promised, a decidedly less melancholic tale.  **Check the ratings.**We know he ends up in the Devil's Triangle but before that journey he discovers a chance meeting along the shore can leave either pain or solace. Part of this is from the first story I wrote for this character over a year ago and never completed.transferred from tumblr**COMPLETE**
Relationships: Lesaro (Pirates of the Caribbean)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: One Shot Backgrounds for The Kiss of Sea Air [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464154
Comments: 14
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Musical influence: Vivaldi – Concerto in D for Guitar: Largo  


_Parchment on stone_.

That is how he stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. His shoulders pushed around by the wind but his boots firmly in place, anchored to the rocks above the vertical tumbling sandstone. He had spent the last hour watching those waves, looking for something, a fill for the void, cautiously letting the hour pass.

And it was a bright day, the type that pulls a soul down to the shore with whispers of peaceful reflection, a meditation on grace, the compilation of all truth and goodness. His mind needed such peace.

For that Void had appeared – again – he relinquished, and the shoreline had been his refuge before today so no matter the trouble, he could find a few moments respite if he stood long enough at the water’s edge. The damn Void he once hoped the sea would fill, the Void that pierced and made an extra valve in his heart pushing blood from his body into a cavity somewhere - his own but not his own - rushing out but never leaving, gaping and threatening to mortally wound him and lay his being on the cusp of death, that damn Void had broken it’s fragile stitching and was threatening to take all peace away.

_Part II_

Florentia had agreed to marry him, and he hoped that would satiate the pang in his soul. But somehow it had only grown. He could see no logical reason not to marry her, not to present himself and her acceptance at a price was agreeable to all families.

At least on paper.

A price.

She was his for a price. 

The hollowness filled for the first month of their courtship but as the year came to a close and the exchange of the sacrament to each other came into sight, The Void shadowed into his heart again and he knew Florentia, for all her laughter, her eagerness toward him when they were together, was not his.

She was careless with her actions, Armando Salazar cautioned, making spectacle after spectacle of herself, a rose with thorns inviting all to touch. 

Guillermo Lesaro would be a gentleman reflecting his noble birth. Their courtship had been precisely as any gentleman expected. A checklist of meetings, prescribed topics of conversation they could never deviate from. A year’s length from first meeting until he was allowed to be seen with her in public, alone, which he rarely did if it could be helped. Florentia was giddy, wild, rather spending her time walking with friends and poor Lesaro forced to stand with her, open doors, carry what she asked, reduced to a formal servant. He was a Naval Officer and had already made his way from being ordered around to the breathing room of ability to give orders and Florentia, the only woman who had agreed to a courtship, pleasant enough to look at, reduced him to her accessory.

She was the woman who called herself a flower, and who had been named by others as the trumpet of flowers, the grand paperwhite of the Iberian Peninsula who bloomed only in Spring when the bulbs had been forced by frozen ground to eagerly show as the first cheerful yellow. Knowing too that the petals so admired were fragile, thin, withering seconds after a first touch, leaving a thick bladed stock that would snap and die just as the rest of the world awoke to Spring.

And he had to concede. She should have been named Narcissa. 

The spray of sea hit his lips and he mouthed to the Heavens and the horizon and to an unknown heart, begging that there was one other truly meant for him, a lady who would not be bought for any price but his own heart.

_Somehow I will find you_.

_Part III_

So Lesaro concluded his hour on the cliff turning back to the city with no decision made, his mind in as much tumult as the sea. Perhaps tomorrow would bring a different answer. Even if it did not he must find daily respite from the perpetual noise of intrigue, and yes even from the demands of his friend Salazar who was swept up in his own drama. Lesaro shook his head. That man had been the flash point of too many frays in his life and they had only begun their adventures to sea.

She had noticed him, the uniformed figure standing on the cliff. Really though, too busy in her own world to pay attention or question his presence - or even care.

Care? Only for these creatures at her feet in her beloved tide pools. Here she was primary caretaker, investigator, dreamer. Today she absolutely had to be at the shore, this being one of the few times in the year the tide receded back this far. Dancing shrimp and so many crabs, variegated rocks to balance on, the leaps from wet sand to plant life and back to the shore all within view of the castle.

Which is why one more uniformed man among many should not have caught her attention.

She _had_ noticed.

Something about the way he gazed past all of it. Past the shore, past the tidepools, past even the waves. It was a solid dark glare piercing the horizon terminating only when his eyes seemed to meet the land at the edge of the New World.

Even from this distance she had noticed.

Now she remembered why.

_Part IV:_

The next day Guillermo Lesaro returned to the shore bold enough to step down from the cliff and terry on rocks below. Boots were not suited to this type of exploration and he left his tied with his horse. Placing himself at the tides meant he would not be alone, not be the surveyor, he would have to step into a smaller chaos but he was determined. Enough citizens were taking their air and he would blend in, another soldier patrolling, albeit unofficially, the shore. He could not lock himself away on board ship and he certainly could not refuse when Armando volunteered to keep Florentia distracted while he escaped. No, he told himself, he cannot hide forever.

And he was watching her, this windswept and darting girl collecting creatures from the tide pools, debating whether he should speak with her or let her live in the daydream world she was creating. 

Fate made that decision for him.

“Excuse you!”

“¿Que?”

“Watch where you are going!”

His feet already cold and unused to the juxtaposition of wet sand leaving imprints and the rocks jagged and slippery, the woman’s sharp voice startled him.

“Pay attention.” To say she was aggravated, shaking her head and waving her hand in his direction, a gull in human form gathering its spoils and passionately vocal about the protecting of her domain was a comparison exquisite. He began to regret leaving the quiet solitude of his post on the cliff. Was it not enough to stand there and watch?

But as she moved toward him, the graceful leaps and jumps from place to place and the way her hair tangled into the ethereal sky…

“Oh!” And she fell back on the sand.

“Excuse me, I did not mean to – It is a beautiful day?”

It was not a beautiful day. It was a cool early morning covered over by high fog and the entire expanse of the sky held the glow of muted golden fire that only the sea could reflect. This was a paradisiacal morning now as he stood over her. The sharpness of his glare, a look so deep and intimidating, yes, deep, her courage fell immediately.

To take his outstretched hand under these circumstances was allowed, even if she did not need the help. She bit her lower lip. “Yes.”

It was a touch. A single touch - to _her_.


	2. Part V VI

_Part V: _

She had so timidly slid her hand into his that part of him wanted to keep her there so he lingered, tracing over her fingers with his thumb. He was waiting for something. Expecting – something. A sort of shock or the heavens opening up only to be quite surprised when nothing happened at all. Nothing out of the ordinary. The sound around them did not change, the air held steady, the sky still its clouded hue. People walked by with no acknowledgement of change.

Another disillusionment.

Another day trapped.

Perhaps he was being too hopeful placing too much faith in his own prayers. He forced a smile and offered to help walk her back to a safe distance from the waves.

“Here?”

“No, let me stand.”

“Your ankle!”

“It is fine. I will be fine.”

Not mentally prepared to go back and face Florentia, he eyed over her collection from the tide pools and politely questioned, “What did you find today?”

“So many things!” and she quickly returned to silence in his presence.

“I would like to see them?”

She looked up at the top of the castle.

He sensed her hesitation and assured her he was alone.

That did not make her feel better, that made it even more dangerous. “What about your Capitan? Won’t he wonder where you are?”

Lesaro laughed. “Capitán Salazar is consumed with his own affairs.”

“Salazar?” She turned again to observe his face.

“Lieutenant Lesaro, assigned to the Silent Mary.” He raised his head proudly turning in the view of the harbor. “It is the most majestic ship of the Armada.”

“And the most feared,” she whispered. She backed away, defensive. She was right. She remembered who he was. Everyone knew the Officers of the Silent Mary. The country had placed such promises on them, such faith that these men would be their salvation and guardians. Slowly word returned, stories of pirates and swift victory, how Capitán Salazar commanded by powers unnatural. His crew may be lauded as heroes to the Empire but to her, the further destruction and the thought of seeing so much red blood flow from the sides of men to mix with her ocean twisted her stomach.

He could see the fear rising in her eyes. A fear he had seen before when he had ordered...

The last thing he intended was to frighten her. He shook his head at his own folly again reprimanding his decision to leave the cliff.

Only the waves spoke and even they were a slow shallow rhythm against the rocks. He turned his back to her and faced the sea and the afternoon sun. She squinted and raised her hand to shield her eyes. The light off his hair, it was familiar, the way he stood with his left foot pointing out slightly, and then he placed his hands on his hips and sighed, bowing his head.

“Lieutenant?”

“Yes.”

“Do you- remember me?”

He turned to see her standing with bare feet, simple dream, the foam of creeping waves pooling at her ankles, darkest brown hair being swept in all directions by the wind, strands haphazardly covering part of her face, her eyes. Yet she dared not bring her hand up to move.

He smiled. “How may I recognize you if I cannot see your face?” walking over and reaching to run his fingers across her forehead gathering her wild tresses in his hand. It was rather a natural reaction and quick, and dangerously close to impropriety.

“Ah, I see,” and he leaned his head down hoping she would open her eyes.

“No, I do not think you do.”

He let her hair go. “This will not do as you already know me.”

“Will you not tell me your name?”

“I already told you. Once. A very long time ago. No matter but we have met. You will have to guess!”

“Maria?”

She smirked. “Very humorous Lieutenant. Perhaps my first name?”

Fatima

Beatriz

Narea

Gabriella

“Oh how many ladies you must know!”

He paused to recollect her voice. Something was familiar, but nothing stood out regarding her features so he sighed.

“Esperanza?”

_Part VI: _

“No. Still, you may call me Esperanza if you wish,” waving her hand in approval.

He wasn’t sure why he said that name. Hope. The entire situation was ridiculous and the shore becoming too crowded.

“What is on your mind Lieutenant?”

“I think I should like to ask you the same senorita.”

She scoffed. “You’d rather not know,” pulling up her knees and covering her bare feet with her dress. “Mundane thoughts I’m afraid.” They decidedly were not mundane. They were shambles of desiring to engage in academic dissection, wondering how long she could keep up this game of guarding herself and not telling him her name, how long it would be before her face would give up the intensity he touched off in her core.

“Do you know how starfish move?” She raised one in her palm and held it out, inviting him to hold it.

He hesitated to reach, bringing his hand under hers. If nothing else at least she was intelligent.

“How do you know so much?

She pulled the hand back with the starfish and placed it on the rock next to her.

“I have learned to pay attention. I observe things that interest me. But mostly my - my mother. She was surrounded by books. She could name every plant within a hundred miles.”

“And your father?”

Her eyes became as so many distant memories, conflicting and resurrecting, a vase to which was being poured salt-water and glass.

“Lost.”

This brought him to sit next to her.

She picked up her head and stared at the breaks. “The war, Lieutenant.”

“I see,” looking down at his own uniform wondering if it that was what was putting her off. “What was his name?”

“The less you know, the better.”

A sudden jolt at his heart even as her voice held steady.

“He fought for the losing side so his name no longer matters.” Wiping her hands together brushing off the sand. “I carry my mother’s name.”

The losing side. Lesaro understood exactly who she meant. “Did your family bring you here?”

“This place? You must be dense.” She shook her head. “I’m trying to not find my family.” She tried not to let that last tear fall. Not in front of the Lieutenant.

_Dense_. And she saw for just a brief second her words hit him, embarrass him, as he clenched his jaw trying to hold his composure.

“Oh. I am sorry. Sometimes my mouth speaks before my mind can stop it.”

He bent his head down, only to feel the pull of the ocean and he looked back again at the sea.

It was the note of laughter that made him twist his shoulders back uncomfortably. First she insulted him and now she was laughing at him. His ego had taken enough damage and he brought himself on his knees to leave.

But then the laugh converted and he realized. Realized she was weeping. Yes, he could see now that she had been crying, her eyes swollen and lips red but defiant. Lieutenant Lesaro, what sort of gentleman would he be to let her sit and cry? A fault it might be, and one that added to his vexing state of affairs with Florentia, but he was going to try and fix this. He could not leave without some small attempt to ease the ache, and knelt in front of her. 

She mumbled something again perhaps to himself and he paid no attention.

Though it broke another chivalrous rule, forces invisible emboldened him and he entwined his hands thru her hair, pulling it away from her face in the wind. 

“Look at the sky.” She did, over his shoulder. A bird flew across the horizon and she sniffled.

“You see,” he pulled back to see her face. “Smile for me.”

“What?”

“Smile for me.” Beyond the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes, they mixed with the color of her eyes, the reflection of blue and variegated green, the color of the waves behind him (foolish man for turning your back to the ocean). He would have sworn he was looking directly into the tide pools in human form.


	3. Part VII

Part VII:

“Take my hand Esperanza.”  
He took a step forward and closed his hand around her wrist. There it was. The shock he had expected the first time and he watch the way it left his fingers and made her fist close and tremble made him sure. 

He stopped. A temptation flew across his mind. An image bold and heavy when it spoke to him:

Lay her down.  
Whisper my name.

Lay her down.

It would have been effortless. The excuse to rest, to be out of breath, uninhibited except by his own propensity for being a man of honor. 

“Guillermo! There you are!” 

It was the voice of a woman. He knew that voice and he could not look up. 

Lesaro stopped his hands but his mouth, sliding his lips tenderly across her skin, had already contacted Esperanza’s forehead. He kissed her brow. A cold shutter flashed through his body like wakening from a dream.  
“I am – sorry.”  
It was a painful breaking away. Wrong of him to think of her body under his. It was everything that could have the making of a tragedy if he were not so trustworthy. He forced himself to pull back from Esperanza and toward the other woman. 

Who, now standing only yards away bright eyed and defiantly smiling, knew clearly what she had seen. 

“She fell…” were the only words Guillermo found. 

“Oh my dear and you of course wanted to help. No no I understand. Is she –“ Florentia paused. 

“Hello Isabella.” 

Isabella straightened herself, stepped back and diverted her eyes from Guillermo’s startled gaze. “Good Afternoon Flora. Thank you Lieutenant. I will be alright now.” 

“Gui, my love, would you please see to my horse?” she handed Guillermo the bridle dismissing him with her usual cruel wave and reached her hand out to Isabella. “Here, let me help you. I hope my fiancé was not too rough dear. He’s a darling but sometimes too helpful.”

“Your fiancé?” Why under heaven’s gaze had he not said anything to her, as she looked over Florentia’s shoulder to watch him take the reigns of both horses.

“Si. We will be married next month,” the words dripping from her mouth with honeyed pride. 

“Congratulations.” Isabella choked the words. 

“You will come yes?”

“Of, of course. Flora –“

“Yes?” Light of her eyes shot daggers. She must have understood there was more than a gentlemanly rescue or at least suspected. 

“I am very happy for you.” 

To Isabella’s surprise Florentia leaned down, very close to Isabella’s ear. And then she felt something sharp right over her heart. 

“I will defend him to my death. If I find you near him again, I will kill you myself,” backing off and looking at Isabella from her high vantage.

And Isabella shrank back down into the sand wanting to bury herself right there, folding her arms over her chest, wanting to rub her hand over where Florentia’s dagger had been sure there was blood. Once Florentia put her mark on something, it was hers. Kept and to keep. This had been Florentia’s way in their childhood and she had not outgrown the proclivity to violence. 

“Now see, I saved you from becoming a whore. You should thank me. You’re a vain girl, that has not changed. Like a good friend, you will apologize to me. Hmm?” 

“I am sorry. Sorry to have intervened in your – relationship.” Sorry. Never. Isabella was convinced she had done nothing wrong. She wanted to beg and tell Florentia she did not know, that Lesaro had said nothing, question her how she could marry a man who clearly had, at least for a moment, forgotten his betrothal. 

Serves her right, Isabella thought. She also could have poisoned Florentia right then and there, with one of her own beloved sea creatures and it would look like an accident…  
It made her physically sick, this want of another’s betrothed. It was yes, as bad as adultery itself!

\---   
Isabella 

He heard Florentia say her name. Princesa Isabella. When he reached the horses he looked back at the two women. Florentia seemed to be helpful, but there was something in Isabella’s movements, her shoulders. It was not the same person who had been so carefree at the tides. He knew, she was afraid. Afraid of Florentia. No wonder she had not given her name. She was right not to say. Her father indeed was lost – without a kingdom and she now a ward of the Queen. They had met, he remembered. Shortly after the Treaty and parade. The Officers of the Silent Mary were presented to the royal family and Isabella was there, hiding on the side behind Florentia. Quietly hiding but not shy. No, she gazed into the faces of each of the men as if they were her own subjects. No matter the scoffs she received from the rest of the royal family she had the look of a queen. 

How could he have forgotten? Florentia practically threw herself in front of Lesaro at the concert that evening filling his head with flattering words never uttered before to a man like him. Bravery, loyalty. Pride and vanity poured from her lips like a quenching river. If Florentia hadn’t been there – if Isabella had been standing in her place. Lesaro would never have presented his offer, never have spent hours muttering and tearing useless words on paper that Florentia begged him to write. The years! And he had kissed her!   
Guillermo had to shake it off. He had to forget how his heart was beating erratically, that is throat was dry, that his body scarcely had the strength to mount his horse and ride away.   
The day began with a touch that meant nothing but now his mind was sure about Florentia. A man of rules his next steps would be cautious ones and not cause scandal. Rules and regulations for everything.

Being in the presence of Isabella forced every one of those rules to be broken. Over and over again.

He had to confront Florentia. It had to be the end.


	4. Part VIII

Part VIII

It was not days.

It was not weeks.

A full month lapsed before Guillermo Lesaro felt the weight drift from his shoulders.

Free to return to his walk along the cliff and free of Florentia. Of course none of this would have been possible without Armando’s help.

The furious look on Florentia’s face, the visible anger as she screamed at Lesaro even while being held back almost at the point of a sword by her brother filled the courtyard. Her hair coming undone and the language thrown from her voice – guttural - spitting and vulgar venom shrieked, so that even Capitan Salazar who stood next to his friend when Lesaro formally broke with Florentia’s family, covertly placed his hand on his sword ready to raise it if needed.

Her father had warned her to quiet down and threatened to lock her in the house if she did not cease for all the servants were beginning to murmur. But even he had a difficult time understanding the Lieutenant’s change of heart. Lesaro did not, could not, mention Isabella. This family would not understand why he would want to place his reputation with the daughter of defeated King.

Nobility. He had to be born into such a thing. It had kept him safe and now he was forced to play a hand in their game.

Time was running out and soon he would be back on the Silent Mary on the long journey away from Spain. Though he had the ability to return to the walks along the shore there was one thing that had not returned. Salazar had kept him too busy on the Mary to make any formal requests to see the Princesa. If _he_ had been called here before surely he could call out to _her_. She would not abandon her tides. Eventually she would return. Wouldn’t she? The cold flush of anxiety beat against his legs.

Isabella had hidden herself away. Flora’s threat too great to try and cross and solitude would keep her soul safe, keep _his_ soul safe. She would not condemn him with her ache. Instead she poured her heart into countless notes, letters, all destined for the fire.

Until the fire was not enough.

There were too many people moving about the Castillo. Hidden in walls, watching through holes behind gilded frames ran a myriad of servants, spies, and secrets. Isabella knew of them. She had used the passageways herself when she first arrived. Bribing a maid to act as a guide was not difficult when one still held a title and perceived power and perceived power was held by the family of Florentia.

This last letter, Isabella recognized, could not be left for the fire. If Florentia obtained the words of her hidden heart, even the Empire itself would be at risk. No, there was only one thing to be done. She would be brave. She had to be brave or he was going to go away and she would never see his eyes, his face, the lips that came so close to her again.

That pang of emptiness and daring cascaded to her heart all at once and her feet ran through the heavy sand until she stood behind him.

He noticed her presence not by vision but by air. He was not going to speak first.

“Why Guillermo? Why her?”

His head was spinning. He could turn around, now, and tell her about the break with Florentia. He would have to face Isabella’s query about why he had not said sooner and more than that, he was looking for reassurance he was not wrong about Isabella. That she wouldn’t break his heart. It forced him to stay in place.

“Out of spite I suppose.”

“Spite,” she threw the word back at him sarcastically. “I doubt that. And do not tell me you had no choice. I will not accept that excuse. Everyone has the ability to make choices.”

“Not in every situation Princesa.” He was speaking with a voice of certainty, wisdom. Oh but his heart, The Void he carried a month ago was completely filled and soothed in her presence and it cried out.

_It hurts not to tell you. _

_I ache without you. _

“I can’t. Guille, I cannot come between you and Flora. I – “ She slipped the letter in his coat and attempted to run away.

“Stop.” The command in his voice rose. “Stop!” Guillermo grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. “Stop this nonsense.”

Poets speak of heart break. They compare it to everything from glass to fire to unknown worlds both in the sky and the sea. It shatters. It tears. If one is lucky a heart can be buried and resurrect as a Phoenix. He wanted her. Needed her. Damn the heartache if it came.

He drew the back of his hand up to her cheek and she flinched, unsure and unused to a gentle touch. It made him hesitate and yet – she turned her chin just so, encouraging him to follow through, desirous of any touch he would give. It could not have been more gentle, light, a brush with air and he felt her lips part against his hand.

“Let me see.”

She forced her hand up to his face, her fingertip tracing the bottom outline of his eyepatch, across his cheek until she dared slide her finger between the leather and his skin. His face trembled and paled.

“No!” and with swift motion clenched her wrist so tightly her body began to fall underneath itself. But she dared look at him, his good eye piercing down on her. He scolded himself for contemplating even for the briefest moments that he wanted her to see his scars. To see what trauma could look like. The comfort it may bring him if she accepted it without twisting her face.

The wave of images again appeared. The possible furrowing of her brow, the disappointment in her eyes, the recoiling of her heart in fear at such ugliness. The same look Florentia had given him. Perhaps in the dark, in the protection and shadow of night and moonlight, where pain and anguish could be hidden, disguised, he would allow it.

“Not in this place,” he ordered.

She stood there a scolded child against an Officer of the Armada.

He pulled her other hand up in a show of remorse, begging forgiveness, turning her hand up to his lips. She refused to open her palm.

“I am terribly sorry,” he whispered to her trying to ask her forgiveness. Then he understood why she would not open her hand. It held a wound, a deep wound, and it was bleeding.

“Who has done this?”

Isabella gave him only silence.

“Who?” His command shook her.

“I only wanted, I thought she was. A friend. I trusted her.” She pursed her lips and forcefully wiped the tears that were showing from her eyes.

There it was. More clear than her beloved tide pools. Florentia had done more than spy on her, more than threaten. She violently attacked her in the halls of the Castillo just as Isabella was running out to meet Guillermo.

And he watched as she clenched her jaw trying to fight the emotions brimming to her face.

He tore fabric from the bottom of her dress and wrapped it tightly around her hand, hoping to stop some of the pain.

“I have to go.”

“I will go with you.”

“Don’t Guille. It will only make it worse.”

“Then please, stay here with me. For a little while.”

It was his soft voice that convinced her, the warmth and length of his arms now wrapped around her, all her weight falling into him.

And the kiss.

The kiss that convinced her to stay a while longer. The kiss that convinced him his heart was safe with her.

The extended heat of his lips pressed to hers, still chaste yet daring, causing the saltwater of her joyful tears to mix with soft cries of lust from her breathless core as he twisted her body tighter to him. It was his force that surprised her at first as the palm of his hand moved down landing firmly on her hip. Leaning his head in her neck he took a deep breath and stopped briefly to rise against her. The sensation he filled her with palpable once he dared reach for it.

When they parted, as the sea turned its waves back, Isabella reluctantly pulled away from him. “Come tonight to the performance,” she said.

“Yes Princesa,” and he smiled. He finally smiled.

*NOTE: Isabella calls him Guille, not Gui. She is the only one he allows to do so. He is not fond of the nickname Gui but he tolerates it. He says it sounds too French (although he has carried this nickname for a long time) and he has had enough adventures, (many unpleasant) with the French to last lifetimes. Want to piss of Lieutenant Lesaro? Call him Guille. It will only remind him of Isabella.


	5. Part IX X

Part IX

The Capitán made some remark and Santos began to snicker under his breath. Miguel only adjusted his silk cuffs and raised an eyebrow.

“Gui! Are you paying attention?”

“Si Capitán.”

No - no he was not paying attention. He was staring out the window of the carriage as they made their way from the dock to the Castillo, focusing on the distant passing trees and repeating to himself that the carriage was driving too slowly and they were going to be late. He hated to be late. It would cause everyone to stop and notice their entrance.

“Lesaro, stop worrying.”

He looked over at Magda. “I am,” and then shaking his head. “No. I am fine.”

“Your hands are sweating and you cannot stop this ridiculous bouncing of your leg.” Miguel leaned in to whisper, “Any woman who would pen those amusing words is hopelessly enamored.”

Lesaro shot him a look.

“Sorry. She is not silly. But she is in love and it is the same thing with some of these ladies.”

Santos, already eagerly full of suggestions and added one more, “Maybe you should have allowed Lesaro to borrow some of your perfume.”

Salazar shifted uncomfortably in his seat before addressing the man on his right. “You want my Lieutenant to smell like an extravagant Frenchman? No.”

“Well, I would have like to,” Santos quietly said before turning back to look out his window.

As the carriage arrived at the gate Lesaro wondered why they would make such a fuss about how he smelled. Cinnamon was not exotic enough? He brushed it off to Miguel Magda’s fascination with anything from the French Court, including the procurement of the Officer’s ostentatious new coat. 

“And Miguel, try not to be late back to the ship this time, eh?” Capitán Salazar quipped as they left the carriage.

Cold and agitated, Lieutenant Lesaro was forced to admit that he was nervous, made doubly uncomfortable by the fact that only he and Capitán Salazar were in uniform and the other Officers had permission to attend in court dress. He did not want to stand out. He wanted to fade to the background, determined that the only person who should see him was the one whom he braved the entire spectacle for.

Part X

The Lieutenant found himself seated with his fellow Officers in the hall. Before him, rows of seated nobility, the orchestra, an uncountable number of candles, and the constant rustling of the lady’s dresses as they maneuvered for rivaled positions over intricately carved chairs. A knighted Italian composer’s work erupted, and he tried to lose his thoughts in the music. He felt it needed words, a soft soprano reaching for the highest notes of a bird, only to come down to a marching glide with the violins.

Halfway through Salazar took his leave, and Lesaro made an excuse to find him. It wasn’t unpleasant, the Capitan remarked, only repetitive and made him yawn. Officer Magda suggested a game of cards to pass the time, a drink of the wine, and to sort through the offers of finery of Court. There was no way to get close to Isabella. Lesaro only hoped she had seen him.

Instead Lesaro, having lost enough coins to his Capitan, (who swore at him time and again to pay attention), felt obliged to free himself of the hundreds of smoking candles and walls of reflective guiding and mirrors. And the effects of the second glass of wine Miguel placed in front of him.

Only to run into Florentia just before reaching the doors to the courtyard. A happy Florentia, dressed in finer radiance than even the Queen.

“I knew you’d come back!” throwing her arms gleefully around him.

Lesaro grabbed those arms and drew them down and away, placing them carefully at her own side.

“I saw Isabella. I saw what you did.”

“I have done nothing,” her fan in vague communication began to dance in her hand. “That silly girl is too soft Gui. She takes everything so literally! I offered my assistance but ran out of time. I cannot help that she has no friends.”

That uncomfortable harsh silence crept between them.

“Where?” she questioned and turned her head over her shoulder.

“I would have thought your spies already told you. Flora. You cannot treat people this way.”

“Since when do you care how I - Oh I see. If you think I am _truly_ going to break our engagement you are very mistaken _Lieutenant_. You need me. You need my dowry if you wish to continue your career.”

“Leave her alone.”

“Mind your own business dear fiancé. It is much better that way for you.”

He reached for her fan and crushed it in his hand. “This must stop, is that clear?” He held back the anger. “I am _not_ yours and Isabella is still a Princesa of the realm. Remember that.”

“Your threats are nothing! If I wanted to, I could end your career right now,” she spoke with biting laughter.

“I do not find that amusing senorita.”

“Guillermo Lesaro, you have nothing to offer her. Isabella is a meek little fool. Oh, and I should not like to gossip so I will tell you the truth. I hope you would be content marrying a damaged woman.” Florentia smiled and continued smugly, “That’s the truth. Go on, unite yourself to that impure creature when you could have had someone who was only yours.”

Lesaro felt his teeth clench. He had no words for her and he took one last glance at her painted face before leaving.

The night descended into perfumed gardens of the Palace. Isabella found herself finally alone after promising her lady in waiting a new gown. Alone in the new Spring’s warm breezes, she thought of the theme of the music. It began with Spring and ended triumphantly with Winter. Would her Spring be as joyful? She sat on a white marble bench that curved against the geometrically shaped tall dark green hedges.

Isabella would have rather been at the shore, yes, at the shore and barefoot. It was tolerable enough to set about traversing the halls in yards of silk and quite another to be buckled in, her feet positively aching. She placed one foot behind the other, about to take off the heeled shoes, only to be startled by voices. The two people passing behind her and oh! Isabella wished she had not heard what they were saying, what they were – doing! The gasps and sighs igniting her own imagination. If she were only there with…

There was the half moon. Truly nothing exceptional about it other than, the thought, well there it is again, distracting her. Halfway between darkness and light. Halfway between something and nothing, simply hanging there in the sky illuminating all the marble around her from the carved benches and statues imported from lands the Emperor ruled, the small tiered fountain in the middle of the court, to the gravel below her feet.

The gravel! There was the distinct sound of a man walking toward her, slowly, and she could see his boots and sword in scabbard against his silver belt. The uniform ever more a stark contrast in the light of this night. Guillermo had followed her.


	6. Part XI, XII - The Letter

Part XI

He had followed her with calculated determination. Guillermo vigilantly studied her walk, wanting to run and catch her, wanting to enfold her waist and pick her up in arms.

It was not a regal pose, her sitting there on the bench he noted. Rather she rested her elbow on her knee and head on her chin looking up at the sky. Lost in her thoughts, a lost jewel swept around the marble floors, swept against the rocks with the foam of the ocean and heaved back out against the sand. She still landed home, in his heart.

Under her gown she was nervously playing with her shoes and a quiet oh escaped her voice as one shoe fell to the ground.

That was the moment he waited for. To catch her off guard, to pick up the jewel from the sand and carry it in his pocket and covet every facet.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening Lieutenant,” she bit her lip at the formality. “I thought I would, you kept avoiding me. Flora said -”,

He sat down next to her gathering a long strand of curls from her hair in his hand. “Never speak her name again,” feeling the silk of her hair, remembering how smooth it at felt at the sea and appreciating that she preferred a looser style. “You never have to speak that name again. You are the only reason I am here.”

Yes, there in the half darkness, the full weight of his heart was carrying his soul. No longer reaching from The Void but to that missing valve, that missing cavity was now flowing to her heart and back to him.

No words were necessary when he slid to his knees in front of her to pick up the ornate buckled shoe. Isabella dared, as all brave lovers dare, and she peaked her stockinged foot out from under the dress. Desire, sharp and quick rose to its appointed places in her body. Guillermo lithely cradled her foot with the intent to give the shoe back to its mistress, but he hesitated. He should not have. He knew he should not have, for this caused her to sigh and _he_ to give in to the ascending passionate fire consuming his hands.

This delicate arch of her foot was soothed by heated gentle hands until pushing the dress away, he kissed the top of her foot, her ankle, the sensation of his hands further and further, loitering for too long against the back of her knee, raising her leg and setting her foot on his shoulder as he continued his assault, teasing and testing her resolve. Flushed and on the brink of escaping from her outward calm, the last of vestige of decorum casting itself to the night sky, now only yearning upon her, knees drifting apart in anticipation, she once more sighed his name. Her knee now hitched over his shoulder, his head leaning in, brushing, sweeping his lips open mouthed over the bend, placing only one kiss, one closed kiss on her. The quickest of reaches to her thigh and he parted the knot of silk which she spent a great deal of energy tying securely in place. How could it be that she should find herself here with this Lieutenant on his knees to caress her? Isabella so sure the sound of her heart would be their undoing, their discovery imminent. He leaned back to have her foot again in his hands, mouthing the top arch, she could only quiver but he held steady, breathed steadily, traced her leg steadily as if he were directing the helm of the great Silent Mary. He moved to sit again beside her and she was now thoroughly trapped. He slid a hand behind her waist pulling her toward him, lips now hovering over each other in delicate competition to see who would close in first. Neither could stop their matched breathing, their matching heartbeat. It would be as an earthquake if they parted, holding each other together held the world together. He needed to have the warmth of her legs wrapped around his. It was the intimate way she spoke his name that fractured the secure grip he had on her.

From his waistcoat he removed her letter. There it was as a lighted star in his hands starring back, covered in mismatched prose and terrifying admissions.

“You cannot write me.”

Instinctive shuttering befell her core.

“Guillermo please,” her voice brittle, “I cannot stop if I love – “

He resolved to ease the pain in her eyes turned the response to a further command of her. “You must tell me these words. Speak them to me. Now. Before I repeat them once more with my voice. Your voice. I must hear it.”

Part XII: The Letter

My Dearest Lieutenant,

When I saw you peering out to the horizon, I lost my heart.

(Quietly, slowly, he took her empty hand and filled it with his, tenderly passing his thumb across the top of her fingers. Isabella gasped at the sensation yet she continued.)

I must tell you how many times I have said it, whispered it back to the sea on the wind hoping it would carry my hearts yearning to your ear.

(He brought his lips to her ear and blew gently, rhythmically across it.)

How much I desire nothing but you. I found a piece of you after that day. Perhaps your capitan noticed a missing button. Here it is, in my hand now.

(Her eyes diverted to their joined hands and she watched as he lifted her upturned wrist to his open mouth and pressed his tongue slowly down until his lips closed in a kiss. He paused briefly to lock his dark gaze on her eyes. She returned her focus back on the paper, where the words were starting to blur.)

Each night I kiss it before I sleep.

(He put her hand on his cheek. “Kiss me here instead,” he said before releasing her hand letting her know the curve of his lips as he spoke. “I did not say stop reading.”)

I poured my heart out. That is the problem is it not? I pour my heart out too easily yet outwardly I give you all my armor. I have a fragile heart.

(His index finger followed over the top of her breast before leaning down to draw in the scent of her soft flesh. “Your heart is here, yes?” Moving that same hand over her dress, feeling her heart fast and thundering under the surface.)

Too fragile I’m afraid. I want to share it. To place it out in the sun but I hide it instead and let it break me up inside. The storm that places itself inside the deepest part of my heart. I do feel. I promise I feel. More deeply than I want to, more deeply than I should.

(Guillermo place his arm around her waist and pulled her over him, the tantalizing closeness of his words whispered over her ear, “How deeply would you have me, love?”)

Would it be wrong to say I wanted to tear you away from the sea? That I had to hide my affections in every dark corner and bury it because I was told it was forbidden? I declare it all. I must. I am ill with a longing for your touch, your lips against my face again. Oh Heaven spare me! I am lost!

Dropping the letter, she closed her eyes, a heavy panic descending on her heart. Guillermo had moved back from her, ceasing every touch, every breath, every word.


	7. Part XIII

Part XIII

“Open your eyes, Isabella.”

He had brought her hands to cradle his face, and she wanted to pull him closer, to kiss him. Except that he placed his hands over hers and moved together to the back of his head. With solemn finality he gave in to her, gave her permission to see his face and he let her move alone. Intent fingers slid along his black wig and under the strap of his eyepatch. He would close his eyes and when she was done removing it he promised he would open both his eyes to her.

Lesaro’s hands trembled as he caught his breath.

“Please don’t hide,” Isabella said.

She continued her exploration, removing his wig, the longing to put her hands in his own hair, to have nothing on him that was false, nothing that he could hide behind. Her movements were silent. He kept waiting, drowning for air as this moment reached its peak.

The still air to his face was followed an unexpected touch as she quickly kissed his brow, gently leaving a kiss on his scar. Finally filling his lungs with the heavy night air as he brought his face to her perfumed hair and the scent of dark red roses entwined.

Lesaro’s hands began to roam across her back tracing the curve of her spine. He was force of nature finally when he let himself be held by her, when let himself go. The demand brought her form straddling over his leg. She would be his complete undoing.

And he could shield his heart no longer.

“I love you.”

He would not take her here in the open.

But he _would_ take her.


	8. Part XIV

Part: XIV

Could it be possible this night would carry further than any desire he held?

He stumbled only briefly to stand yet she noticed, there would be no way of hiding anything from her now. Not his heart, his soul, his will, his body.

“Her wrath is – very palpable.”

“Oh Guille.” Throwing herself back into his embrace and her arms around his neck. “I knew I should have poisoned her,” she said half joking.

“You would do no such thing.”

Looking up at his face she beheld a man transformed. His eyepatch gone, his face bordering on a soft smile, a heart filling with her soul and she sighed into his chest. Isabella let herself collapse again under his weight, under the pressure of his caress and his mouth pressed open to her swollen lips.

“You are cold,” he said, mistaking the chills on her arm for a response to the night air and not his adept way of moving his hands along her back to pull her closer in.

The sound of more footsteps on the gravel separated them. He hastily reached for his discarded items.

Isabella adjusted his wig and they stood looking at each other slightly disheveled as she tenderly tucked part of his hair under the wig and straightened his collar.

Quietly she replaced his hat to his head bringing her back into his arms and one more long tender kiss, giving him the opportunity to again have the vibrations of her moan across his mouth.

Guillermo Lesaro brought her chin up with his finger and made her meet his piercing stare though her heavy eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Isabella only nodded, she was too breathless to do otherwise. 

“Met me at the gate in ten minutes.”

Lesaro did not remember how long it took him to find Miguel Magda, only that he had to weave through crowds and crowds of people. Glimmer gold from every direction blinding him. The drunk laughing faces he could not see at all behind masks and paint agitating him around the rooms until he found the exit.

Miguel of course was still playing cards with Santos by his side and from the looks of things, the young Officer was about to lose.

Lesaro tried to divert Magda’s attention to no avail. He would have to speak to him directly.

“Ah Gui! There you are,” Magda said. “Finally ready to join?”

Salazar raised an eyebrow while taking in the appearance of his Lieutenant noticing every small detail that was out of place. No one else would notice but leave it to his Capitán to forever keep a mental record of the way he perceived the treatment of the uniform.

Magda gave him a sly smile before he put down his last wager. “Sorry gentlemen, I do have this game in hand,” laying his cards on the table and finishing his glass. After gathering his coins he walked with Lesaro to a quiet corner of the room.

“I have a favor,” he whispered.

“Of course. Ah, for the lady fair? Where is she?”

“I need your carriage.”

Miguel stopped. “Ha! Very good. I paid good money for it I suppose someone should have use of it tonight,” his eyes reflecting disappointment at the company in the room, while his lips took another sip from a new full glass handed to him.

“And something else.”

Miguel switched his gaze and looked at Guillermo blankly. Which when the request was made turned his face to a knowing yet surprised smile. “I will go with you.”

“No, Miguel. I don’t want to embarrass her.”

“Do you not trust me amigo? Word of her honor is safe with me Gui. But Lesaro, if you do this,” placing a warning hand on his arm.

“I know the risk.”

He had to be hers. There was no going back.

Precisely ten minutes passed, and Isabella stood at the gate as promised standing cloaked and in a shadow. A rather fine and ornate carriage arrived and stopped precisely under the archway. Miguel exited first surprising her.

“Princesa,” giving to her a deep and revert bow, “my carriage.”

Isabella hesitated until she saw Guillermo’s hand reach for hers out of the dark of the carriage and Miguel assisted her to enter. “Thank you,” she said out of habit and an attempt to quell her nerves.

Miguel raised his eyebrow. “I have sent word Lesaro. Do not lose the keys,” he said as he shut the door and watched them slip away, silently proud of his friend.


	9. Part XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated Explicit has arrived. Divert your eyes lest you be scandalized. NSFW. You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Explicit has arrived. Divert your eyes lest you be scandalized. NSFW. You have been warned.

Guillermo had hastened her inside the carriage in such a way that she found herself sitting half on his lap and she fell back in his arm when the carriage began to move.

“The ah, no! Listen. No!” Folding his hands in hers. “Only the Archbishop can marry us and only after the bans and the Queen -”

“And is the country not at war? Is this not a state of emergency?”

“Oh Guille. It wouldn’t be legal. You would be cast out of the Armada!”

“No, we will have Armando’s priest bless us tomorrow. He will sign for us. Today valid. Tomorrow merely legal.”

As they continued on the road he prompted her to repeat the vows, rewarding each response with an increasingly steady play of his mouth wrapped around her fingers, his tongue and lips sucking trails of molten desire along her inner wrist and palm.

“To have. To hold.”

“To…hold... Ah! Guillermo! Please?”

“No. Continue! I will not have you until…”

“Until death do us part.”

She almost bit through her lip when he made a last demand.

“Kiss my sword.”

“Guille!”

“I apologize I have no ring for you. Kiss it.”

His ornate and proud sword, the one with grape vines and symbols of his home entwined on the guard, rested in her hands and he watched as she tenderly closed her eyes and kissed the blade.

The carriage stopped at the door of a modest house and without pause Guillermo swept Isabella to his arms and carried her in walking up the staircase to a bedroom, grateful that his friend was so covert in his messages.

“Ah the keys!” he exclaimed checking his coat pocket. “I will return shortly.”

He cursed as he ran back upstairs, his quest fruitless and now he was sans the keys.

His frustration did not last, for when he opened the door upon his return there standing as a shadow before the flames stood Isabella, draped in amber light dancing on golden silk threads.

And he had to remind himself: There was she, _his_ Isabella. He no longer had to wait on the cold shore pretending the striking wind was the shock to keep his heart beating. He was as blank parchment tearing no more, she had written herself across his soul.

Quietly he set hat and wig – and yes that failing eyepatch would be gone too – on the table. She had not moved still facing the fire, running her fingers along the trinkets on the mantle.

She caught the sound of his boots stepping in behind her, and from the corner of her eye watched as he sat down to remove them.

Anticipation of his touch shuttered across her skin and flushed to her face, her body bracing for the now familiar invading sensation as he wrapped his arm around her waist and with his other hand swept away the curls of her hair undone and falling beyond her shoulders. Between the flames of the fire and the desire within to consume her, he reached his face around to gently caress her neck and inhale the softness of her skin leaving a trail of kisses down across to her shoulder where he _could _have stopped. He _would _have stopped - and been contented enough to linger there - save for the trembling of her arms beneath him and the breath she drew to herself as he raised his hands to soothe the tightened muscles along her back.

The room was lined with finery but he only remembered the warmth as he turned her around. “Calm my love. You have me,” bringing her to his chest.

For all the passion their lips had carried to this space and moment, it was the beginning. Opening of interlaced fingers. Opening of her arms to then collapse against him. And the wave of the sea turned into their hearts, adjusting and contorting with each embrace.

“I do love you,” she whispered. “Guille,” her eyes a recognizable mischievous glow, “smile for me.”

He could not refuse. This was an equal meeting of hearts, of mind, of undressing and possession, of want and fulfillment.

Oh how smoothly his tongue had pressed to her own smile, how he began to suck gently on her bottom lip before crashing into her again his open mouth full of spices and wine.

She drew her hands up and under his coat and they made their way quickly to his shoulders, sliding the first piece of his uniform down to the floor. It was that uniform she delighted in removing for him, taking time between sweet and brief kisses to undo his belt and the buttons on his waistcoat before that too lay on the ground at his feet. 

He was to regain control, command of his actions at her request, while she stood before him and began to unpin her dress letting the yards of silk pool to her feet while he stood admiring the curves of her body although adorn in still confining layers.

Firelight reflected on ribbons of her stay and he scrolled across each with determined fingertips unweaving them at long lengths and forcing the sound of each snap the ribbon made when it quickly hit against the fabric as he pulled the ribbon through the holes on each side. He wanted to see her, just as she had seen his face, bare, alert, with no false adornments to hide behind. To be openly his and to be adored as his.

Guillermo would be attentive to the call of her needs, humbly asking permission with intentions deliberate and precise while he smoothed his thumb across her right shoulder pushing away her shift. The hem of his sleeve gliding across her bare breast as he lifted that hand behind her neck and caught his fingers in her hair tilting her back more openly for his passion, expressing it with his heavy lips and his teeth grazing her skin. There she was no longer silent, she _could not be silent_ to the solid length he was pressing to her thigh. The sound, oh the sound she produced for him made him want to drown faster in her but he forced his mind to slow and stepped back and regained his breath. He released her hair yet brought those hands to grasp her breast and mold the weight within his palms, releasing again to emblazon across her skin the slow graze of his fingers passing back and forth across her chest and stomach. His mouth traversed down and lingered, mapping her breast before he took her hardened nipple in his mouth, rolling it across his lips.

Isabella’s hands cradled his head, half guiding his movements to help him discover the place she most wanted his touch, but not before he removed his shirt over his head and locked his embrace once more tightly over her.

It was his hand gliding between her legs, now covered with her sweet arousal that made her find confidence and she finally allowed her hand to pass over his hard member, giving warm slow pressure around him. Finally, finally, moving up and down, exploring his length in detail the sensation of his desire through his trousers. He had yearned for this and all he could do was bury his lips in her neck, taking her name over and over in dark tones. And when she released the buttons, and as his body now pressed to her bare, he groaned and placed his mouth harder to her neck, marking her. She stopped her movements when he did so, flushed by the pain that was agonizingly sweet.

With slow fluid motion, fingertips in steady pathways between her yet not allowing himself to be in her, he continued sending a cascade of fire to her being. The rolling of his thumb over her sex took her body upward and she tried to regain balance by clasping his shoulders.

“More.”

It seemed like a timid request but one she had to make for he was moving so gently the thought of continuing in this way was going to make her tear into him.

“I don’t want to - hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t.”

He paused over her, both understanding to what question had been in his mind.

“During the siege, the King’s nephew thought…I was 13. There were, he thought he could…”

“Look at me,” he said in the same calm tone he had used at the shore. “I understand. If you are not willing, we don’t have to,” but he could not finish his words.

“Oh yes we do!” Was her reply and her own command. She closed her eyes not fulling aware of his motions until he clasped her thigh and brought it around his hip, lifting her completely off the ground to carry her to the bed.

_Lay her down_ he heard the wind again say.

And as if she had known the same temptation she responded with the whisper of his name, “Guillermo.”

Guillermo Lesaro, Lieutenant Grand, the man accustomed to giving orders, shed all propriety and let her guide him in, to soothe her own ache where there was no balm other than his continual wanton infiltration. Twisting her hands into the sheets over her head and submitting still, her hips arching higher to take him, he began his decent into her.

“Guille, please.”

“Tell me. Tell me what you need and I will.”

“Slowly. But all of you. Please. Do not hold yourself back. I need all of you.”

He brought the back of his hand up to her cheek and this time she did not hesitate to turn and kiss it as he told her,

“Remember you alone will always have me.”

He began his slow thrust in and out, a constant, rhythmic heat of deep caresses flush to her inner body grazing over her sex with each stroke. Her legs clasped around his hips and instinctively moved in time with him. He brought his arm around her back tilting her hips upward. He knew he was buried in her, even as she urged him to continue, so close was she to release.

Ah, yet he wanted to see her above him, to have her experience that pleasure under her own command and he rolled to his back, she now sprawled across his lap. The new pressure was unnerving for her.

“This way. I want you to be comfortable,” and he guided her hips, rocking her back and forth, until she understood her own need and arched her back, circling over him, wet and tight and when she could no longer control the desire she pulsated, and cried out his name as she tightened around him, throwing her head back inviting his talent to take her body and mark her as his own. He would not hold back as his own need climaxed, his own voice moaning and declaring the ecstasy of her.

And she collapsed down to his heated and strong embrace, a hold on her he swore he would not ever be torn from.

It was there he found his peace.

There he found solace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will have to ask Miguel about the explanation Gui gave about the keys. It wasn’t his fault. Besides, who keeps their cellar in such a state!


	10. Part XVI - Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated E

Guillermo slowly opened his eyes. The glow of rose and gold dancing before him along strands of her hair enticed him to move slightly and caress them in the morning air. Her skin held the same glow, provoking his fingers to dance along her shoulder and smoothly down her arm.

He felt her move and rapidly tightened his arm around her waist.

“Good morning,” his quiet voice greeted her.

“Guille, I need to get up.”

Amused he buried his face in her hair inhaling the lustful combination of her perfumed arousal and the chilled room. “We could stay here.”

“You could. I have - what is Her Majesty going say?”

“You suspect I do not know what _my_ queen will say? I will tell you what she is going to _do_.” He leaned up to her ear and whispered, “She will stay.”

“You speak treason.”

“Never,” he replied.

Isabella released a deep breathless sigh. He was making her heart pound again and he knew it.

“I do not like to be teased!”

“I am not. Not yet.”

Guillermo let her go and she felt something tickle, soft and smooth down her cheek then tightly across her neck. He had found the ribbon from her garter and was about to ensure she did stay, at least until he returned the beam of gratification to her smile.

The ribbon continued its journey under the sheet slinking between the valley of her breasts. Pulling the sheet away he curved the ribbon below admiring the soft swell rising with her breath.

He wanted to taste her skin, wanted to drink of her presence, wanted to cascade into the depths of her.

But slowly.

So instead he took the ribbon rolling it with his splayed fingers down her stomach until he found her hand and weaved the silk between their joined fingers. Guillermo pressed further down to her inner thigh. The ribbon eased between her folds and he felt heated wetness dampen the silk as he took his time stroking back and forth along her.

Isabella allowed the rippling of his motions to guide her hips, the lapping as the tide soaking his hand that brought her so rapidly to the edge. And he must have known, must have felt the first clench of her body as he shoved two fingers inside her.

“Ah Guille! Again!”

He hooked his leg around hers bringing Isabella to lay with her back on top of him, her legs now spread wide for his touch.

All she could do was plead for him to continue, stretching her arms back to rake her fingers along his hair. Plead and arch her back as he drew his fingers in and out, and in again, holding them hard and steady in titillating desire inside her and rolling his thumb in short circles to her sensitive clit until she shattered.

“You see, I do not tease you my love,” he said.

Isabella moaned in response and relaxed herself back down on his chest, breathless and shivering. She tried to rise and sit up, only to collapse down.

Guillermo wrapped both his arms around her. “Where do you think you are going?”

“I – I don’t,” her voice shaking.

“I am not done with you my priceless one,” and he turned, laying her on her stomach aligning his hard erection on top of her, his body resting just above her own wanting her to know how the sight of, the scent of her, inspired this yearning for another exploration. This time he would demand her body to quiver, sweeping his hand from her knee up her thigh, stopping to acquire the memory of her curves, leaving wet and slow kisses down the length of her back.

She wanted to, tried to, move her hips up to his but his shoulders held her down. Guillermo was not going to let her go until he memorized every inch of her skin, every freckle, every way that she melted and twisted under his command.

“Oh! Now! You must let me come!”

Guillermo finally turned her around, laying a sensuous kiss to her swollen and panting mouth. “So eager. I know love. Let me take my time. I need to.”

He found the ribbon again and placing it under her thigh brought it slowly along the bottom of her leg to her knee using it to pull her leg over his shoulder. Opening his mouth along her thigh, his tongue in mounted pressure to her skin he moved down, pushing her legs apart until he rested a kiss slightly above where his fingers had so nimbly been moments ago. At first he only lightly flicked his tongue.

Yes, he was going to make sure to memorize everything.

The motion made Isabella pull away, embarrassed by the touch.

“Guille, what are you doing?”

“I can stop,” he said moving up to trace soothing caresses of his fingers along her hips.

“No. I want to know.”

As his own confidence and her desire grew, she closed her eyes and leaned back. The sound of his movements circling and pacing, of groans and hums that vibrated made her body ache and drip on him.

“Are you trying to drive me mad?” Isabella could feel his mouth turn in a smile and she dared to look down, whimpering when his eyes met hers and he began to suck, not looking away, while his tongue pushed further, dove further, moved faster.

“I want you to come.”

“Please. I want,” she begged in a quiet voice.

“What do you want?”

“I want to taste.”

He hummed as he coated his lips again with her wetness and crawled up to meet her.

Isabella closed her eyes and moved over his top lip with the tip of her tongue, allowing the scent and taste to glide between their mouths. Guillermo leaned on his elbow over her, ghosting kiss after kiss until she reached up and pulled his mouth down to her, running her tongue along his bottom lip then taking it fully in her mouth, giving a nibble.

“Who is teasing now?” he questioned.

Isabella smirked. “Then let me have you again my love.”

She watched as his cock sank hard into her, thrusting deeply. Guillermo rolled his body above her, his chest in friction against her breasts, arching his back and slamming his lips to hers. He paused to gaze on her eyes, now wide and comforting, open as his soul entwined with hers. He brushed a stray hair from her face and spoke.

“I love you.”

Isabella responded with the smile he knew he was the cause of. “Yes love. I love you.”

He bent his forehead down to hers and kissed her gently, and felt her body tighten as his rhythm faltered and he filled her, sealing off the Void from both their hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left. How will the story end? Hmm.


	11. Part XVII, El Fin

Part XVII

The carriage ride back to the Castillo they sat hand in hand, Isabella’s head resting in luring tranquility on his shoulder. The trees passed in shadow beside them, the wind channeled its barrage against the wood and leather but dared not break in. The world around them slept though the dawn had melted into the bells of sunrise.

In the courtyard fires still clung to their torches lined in perimeter to the scene while the clatter of the horses echoed their arrival. Capitán Salazar stood on the steps near a small wooden door with a half asleep Santos leaning on him. Magda hovered in a corner, finishing up a lively discussion with a red head woman when another sound cracked against the walls.

“Where is the coward? Where is Guillermo Lesaro?” The young man’s cry reverberated forward to the corridor by the gate. “I refuse to call you Lieutenant!”

The man was marching ever closer, sword raised, face covered in fire and eyes swollen from distorted sleep. “I have come here to challenge you, if you still have any honor.”

Lesaro’s boots slammed down on the cobblestone ground and he locked the carriage door behind him. Isabella dared lean out the window. “Please don’t,” grasping at his uniform.

“Stay inside.”

“Guille!”

“Do not leave!” He ordered as he walked to meet the foe. There was only one person who would challenge him and immediately he felt a shutter of unease sweep down his body leaving him cold. Magda heard the announcement and excused himself from the woman’s company to walk across the court and stand guard to Isabella.

“Now I see it is true! You are here with that whore of a Princesa!” The young man shouted.

“That is my wife.”

Lesaro’s reply caught his Capitán and fellow officer off guard, Santos almost falling over.

“Then you agree?” Florentia’s brother had his sword still raised, a few feet between he and his target. “Only a whore would lay down with you!”

That was enough to ignite his burgeoning anger. His polished sword became the only thing Guillermo could see. The sword that she kissed. It unsheathed with grace but its owner was not prepared to shed blood yet.

“Go home. You are drunk and angry and you perceive a wrong that is not there.” Lesaro briskly tapped across the man’s sword and brought the tip to the ground but not out of his hand.

“Do not fight me. Está claro?” Lesaro warned. “Go home,” and he turned back to the carriage.

“Coward!” The voice cracked under the strain of the insult.

Lesaro stopped and took a deep breath. Salazar and Santos now stood behind him ready for any defense.

It was true. The young man was drunk, angry, full of vain whispers that tempted him to stand against the Lieutenant. He would not leave without satisfaction. Lesaro would not be free of this challenge even at sea. Better to settle it here while the more polite of society still slept.

“Very well.”

It was an incisive confrontation and one that found Florentia’s brother quickly disarmed and laying on the cobblestone, shaking from adrenaline and shaking from anger and tears running down his flushed cheeks. Guillermo’s blade lay sharp against his neck. One thrust at the artery would kill the boy.

“I will tell you again. Go home.”

The duel was over and Lesaro returned his sword to the scabbard. He wanted nothing more than to come down from his heated anger in the soothing comfort of Isabella’s arms which waited for him outstretched, despite his words to stay in the carriage.

That immediate solace of affection spread between them, tender as their shared caress made the aurora of day blush.

When another echo reached her ear and she fell suddenly against him. He clutched her body and lost all air from his lungs.

And in that second, the brief second where earth and sky and time hold all the eclipses of life he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the scent of her, Isabella’s body held up only by the remaining strength of his arms.

“Guille, are you alright?” her eyes shot open.

“Yes. You – you are not harmed?”

“No,” she replied but her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.

Florentia’s brother was now surrounded by Salazar and Santos, swords to his neck, and prepared to surrender all traitorous plans to his captors. Santos kicked the pistol away. 

Officer Magda rushed to the princesa’s side immediately starting his pulse watch.

“Is she?” Guillermo could barely speak the words and would not let her go.

“She will recover. Only fainted. I will take her back home.”

“Miguel, what are you going to say?”

“The truth you fool. This boy – Florentia’s brother, crazy as his sister! Came to harm the Princesa and you, Lieutenant of the Royal Armada, stepped in. For love of country.”

“He wanted a duel Miguel.”

“They do not need to know that part do they?”

Lesaro had never disobeyed orders, never done anything so rash and foolish. He’d been both warned and yet encouraged by Magda. Even Armando Salazar thought the marriage a bold and risky equation.

And now Isabella, the Princesa, his _wife_, possibly injured because of his impatience.

“I think you’d better figure out how you’re going to tell Her Majesty you’ve married her ward without permission.”

His heart dropped. It all made so much sense when he said it to Isabella in the carriage. Now here in the tragedy it did not make such a clear argument. He would have to face the Royal family, hoping his own lineage would spare his life.

Part XVIII

“Where am I?” Isabella woke, the curtains drawn and only candlelight to illuminate the fact that she was not alone.

Suddenly Guillermo worried that she had injured her head. That maybe she did not remember their night together. That maybe she did not remember the exchange of vows and his brow creased.

“Husband,” she said slyly and stretched her hand out to him.

He knelt down and kissed her hand brushing his thumb across her fingers.

“Oh sweet Guille. I do want to know where I am though.”

“Home my love.”

Isabella tried to get up. “I must tell the Queen!”

Guillermo laid his other hand over hers and took a deep breath. “Florentia’s father is in jail.”

“What?”

“Armando followed Señor Boria to a corridor. When he was coming out of the tavern he was seen exchanging money with a hired assassin. You were right about that family. The son was planning on murdering you, then the King. When he failed, Boria simply tried to hire someone else.”

“And what have you told the Queen? Shall we still marry?”

“We are married Isabella.”

“Properly Guille!”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “When I return.”

And he did return.

Months later he returned from sea and they had a small gathering in the church, blessed by the Archbishop and all was well.

Another month had gone by and Lesaro’s Capitán, fueled by anger and passion and something more – unsettling - demanded a return to the sea. A return to the hunt.

They stood together at her tide pools, the wind once again attempting to thrust imbalance to his resolute soul. Yet here anchored to the shore, unwavering and calm, interlaced and warm from her embrace he drank again from her lips, having memorized so many times each curve of her lip and sweep of her tongue over his.

“Good-bye Guille.”

“No. Never goodbye.”

“Via con Dios?”

“Better.”

She reached for his sword and slowed pulled it out, bringing it to her lips then kissed the blade. “You will always have part of me with you.”

“And I my love,” kissing her forehead, “with you.”

Officer Santos quickly ran down the rocky shore. “We must board now Lieutenant. Off to save Spain!”

“Go now, my hero of the Armada.”

“I am not a hero Isabella.”

“You are to me. You always will be.”

El Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rather sad to end this, I've grown quite attached to the story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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